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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22894108">Unsound Vessels</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahra99/pseuds/xahra99'>xahra99</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crusade [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fourth Crusade, Gen, Intrigue, Middle Ages, Post-Canon, Secret Identity, Secret Identity Fail, Venezia | Venice, Whodunnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:42:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22894108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahra99/pseuds/xahra99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post game fic. Two Templars hunt down an Assassin who's murdered their colleague-but there's more to the killing than there seems.<br/>A tale of the Assassins.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crusade [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/6874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unsound Vessels</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, reader! I usually try to make these stories stand alone. This one is an exception. Now I'm not saying you can't read this as a one-shot-but you'll get much more out of it if you read some more of my Malik-centric Crusader series. If you want to make it quick, read No Name Under Heaven. It's pretty short and stands okay by itself. If you'd like to read more (and I'm aware I'm shooting myself in the foot here) then A Thousand Days picks up shortly after the game finishes, followed by (in chronological order) Favour of Heaven, Both Worlds as our Companion, The Word of God and the Treasures of Wisdom, Assembly of Bones, the short fic Stone, Ground, Mountain, River, Neither Heaven Nor Earth, and No Name under Heaven.<br/>Go have a look. I'll wait.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The body floated face-down in the water. The tide was out, and the lagoon’s thick salty smell almost masked the stench of decay.</p>
<p>Tazim crouched down to examine the shore. The muddy bank was churned with footprints of all kinds. There was no way of telling where the corpse had fallen in.</p>
<p>Leo reached out with his boat hook and snagged the corpse’s sodden tunic. He shifted his grip and pulled the dead man closer. The corpse’s greyish skin was paler than the lagoon’s leaden waters, and loose dark hair trailed around his head like weed. Once the corpse was close enough Tazim leaned out and caught the shoulders. His fingers sank unpleasantly into decomposing flesh as he eased the dead man closer. Leo took the corpse’s legs, and they hauled the body out onto the bank.</p>
<p>The bargemen who had told them where to find the body watched nervously from a distance as Leo used the boat hook to roll the remains over. Drowning had made the corpse stout, but Tazim recognized the waterlogged blue tunic. “Is that Bezio?”</p>
<p>Leo leaned over and peered down at the dead man. “That’s Bezio. <em>Cazzo</em>! He owes me money.”</p>
<p>Tazim shrugged. “They say Death pays all debts.”</p>
<p>“Maybe.” Leo stared glumly at Bezio’s mortal remains. “But I doubt He carries coin.”</p>
<p>“When did you last see him?”</p>
<p>“Two days ago. A tavern in Santa Croce. He must have died soon after.”</p>
<p>Suspicion sharpened Tazim’s gaze. “How do you know when he died?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Leo. “The skin comes off drowned men. Like gloves.” He slid one tanned, work-roughened hand over another and pointed at Bezio. “His skin is intact. He hasn’t been in the water long.”</p>
<p>Tazim crouched down beside the body and pointed to a tear in the dead man’s tunic. “I know you didn’t kill him.” He widened the tear with the tips of his fingers, revealing a narrow wound surrounded by a rusty stain and a ring of bruised tissue. “I think we both know who did.”</p>
<p>“That damned Saracen bitch,” growled Leo.</p>
<p>Tazim’s mouth tightened.</p>
<p>“<em>El me scuxa,</em>” Leo blurted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”</p>
<p>Tazim shook his head. “Don’t worry. But I wouldn’t say that to Ammar.”</p>
<p>It was Leo’s turn to wince. The grimace pulled at the scar over his right eye. “Will you tell him?”</p>
<p>“Why would I?” Tazim unfolded the linen sheet from the bed of the cart and folded it over the handles. “Let’s get him up.”</p>
<p>They lifted Bezio’s body onto the cart. The bed was a little short, and the corpse’s bare feet trailed from the edge. When Tazim spread the sheet over the body, water soaked the makeshift shroud. The cart wasn’t a particularly dignified bier, but it was better than most people got.</p>
<p>“May the Father of Understanding guide him to his rest,” said Tazim quietly.  </p>
<p>“May the Father of Understanding guide him,” echoed Leo. He crossed himself. Tazim didn’t. “I’ll take first turn.”</p>
<p>Tazim raised his eyebrows briefly in surprise. “If you like.”  </p>
<p>Leo spat on his hands and lifted the handles easily, but the weight of Bezio’s body had sunk the cart deep into the mud. The wheels stuck fast as Leo pushed and the cart rocked dangerously. Tazim leaned one hand on the boards. “Let me-”</p>
<p>Leo’s feet slipped. The bargemen sniggered as he landed on his knees in the mud. Leggings soaked, he floundered. Loud squelches accompanied each movement.</p>
<p>Tazim held out his hand without thinking. Leo took it, and Tazim hauled him effortlessly to his feet.  </p>
<p>Leo grimaced as he wiped his hands on his tunic. “You know, you’re stronger than you look.”</p>
<p>“So I’ve been told. Try this.” Tazim kicked driftwood beneath the cart’s wheels. “You take the front. I’ll push.”</p>
<p>They rocked the cart until the wheels loosened with a sucking squelch and wrestled the barrow along the bank until they found firm ground. A few passers-by gave the shrouded corpse strange glances. Tazim adjusted the sheet to conceal the body before they reached the busy streets beside the Grand Canal.</p>
<p>Their journey was slow going. Unlike most cities, Venice was built on wooden rafts and pilings driven deep into the marshy ground.  The better streets and the piazzas were paved with herringbone brick, but the Cannaregio backstreets were bare earth shored with wooden planks. The ground sagged beneath their feet with every step, and algae clung to every structure covered by the tide. The smell of rotting seaweed strengthened with the rising sun.</p>
<p>Leo rolled his shoulders. “We should have brought a boat.”</p>
<p>“Maybe. But we’d have had to hire one, and boatmen always talk. The fewer people who notice us, the better. Besides, I don’t like boats.”</p>
<p>“Then you’re in the wrong city,” Leo nodded over to the lagoon. “Look around.”</p>
<p>There were boats everywhere, small gondolas that skimmed across the water, the fishing boats of the lagoon, flat-bottomed punts piled with produce, ponderous merchant vessels and hundreds of barges delivering goods from the ocean-going ships too large to enter the lagoon. So many masts rose beside the bell-towers it seemed as if the city herself was under sail. There were even boats upon the land, hastily constructed in makeshift shipyards as the city’s famed Arsenale loosed her grip on construction to fulfil the Crusader demand. The Crusaders had promised everything they had to pay for transport to the Holy Land. There were rumours that what they had wasn’t nearly enough.</p>
<p>Leo shifted his grip and shook out his hand. Bezio hadn’t been a small man when he was alive, and Tazim knew exactly how much corpses weighed. He rubbed at his right arm, which always ached in cold weather. “I’ll take my turn.”</p>
<p>Leo shook his head. Muscles bunched in his forearms. “I can manage.”</p>
<p>Tazim shrugged. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>The buildings around them grew grander as they neared the Rialto, their rooftops cluttered with crenellations and chimney pots. Leo sighed with relief as the cart’s wheels bumped onto bricks. The growing crowds were diverse enough that neither man stood out despite their strange cargo. Venetians with Leo’s dark eyes and blond hair, Turks, Greeks, and brightly clothed Africans mingled with Syrian merchants and traders from the Maghreb.</p>
<p>Few Frankish Crusaders could afford to travel  to the city from their camp upon the sandbanks at the edge of the lagoon. One group stalked through the crowds, casting disapproving expressions everywhere. The Christian Pope had threatened to excommunicate all Franks who traded with infidels, but there was little sign of the ban in the bustling streets save for the Crusaders’ glares. No Venetian worth his salt would let damnation in the next life prevent him from profit in this one.</p>
<p>They took Bezio to the Templar house near Rivo Alto by a more direct route than Tazim would have liked. He hadn’t considered the problem steps would present to an already overloaded cart. If he’d been alive, Bezio would surely have criticised the jolting. As he was dead, he held his peace.</p>
<p>They went around the back of the warehouse to the gate. The bricks there were deeply worn from years of passing carts, and the grand gate in the centre of the ground floor was sealed with an iron grille. The small arched door beside it was guarded by a nervous-looking sentry who visibly relaxed as Tazim and Leo approached.</p>
<p>Tazim inclined his head. “Is Ammar in?”</p>
<p>“He’s in,” the man confirmed. His eyes flicked to the cart. “Is that what I think it is? Or who?”</p>
<p>“Probably,” said Tazim.</p>
<p>The man swallowed and unlocked the door. He held the door open at arm’s length, staying as far as he could away from the body as Leo pushed the cart inside.</p>
<p>The large room inside was dark and empty, and it grew darker when the door slammed closed behind them. The whitewashed brick walls gleamed with moisture and the air was dank and musty. The addition of a two-day-old corpse did not improve the smell.</p>
<p>Leo set the cart down and stretched to crack his neck. “Should we take him up?”</p>
<p>Tazim shook his head. “Leave him here. Ammar hates anything unclean.”</p>
<p>They climbed the stone staircase to the <em>piano nobile. </em>The large first-floor room held a desk, a bench, a table and chair, and a curtain-covered bed. The fireplace in the corner was bigger than the bed, large enough to make the fire burning in the grate seem small. The windows were barred by thick iron grilles shaped like crosses that cast cruciform shadows on the floor. Tazim found the crosses ironic. He went over to the fire and leaned with his hands on the mantel of the great fireplace, enjoying the unaccustomed warmth in this damp northern city. Leo, less at ease, stood in the centre of the room with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.</p>
<p>Ammar sat behind a low table in the centre of the room. Books were scattered across the desk, bench, and floor. Tazim thought, as he always did, that Ammar should find a larger table.</p>
<p>The leader of the Templars in Venice was a middle-aged man with neat, simple clothes and a sharply trimmed beard. He was fairer than Tazim, light-skinned enough to pass for a suntanned Venetian, and he ran a bathhouse in the city when he wasn’t conducting Templar business.</p>
<p>“Tazim,” Ammar said, ignoring Leo. “Did you find Bezio?”</p>
<p>Tazim turned from the fire. “He’s dead. Killed by the Assassin.”</p>
<p>Ammar clasped his hands together and sighed heavily. “The Assassins are back? Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Sure enough,” Tazim said. “He’s downstairs. Come and see.”</p>
<p>Ammar frowned. Bezio’s death was the first sign they’d had in years that the Assassins had returned to the city. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”   </p>
<p>“Do you think I’d ask you if it wasn’t?”</p>
<p>Ammar conceded the point and rose from his desk. He walked past Leo without comment and followed Tazim downstairs. Leo hesitated, then followed.</p>
<p>Tazim led the way to the cart, footsteps echoing through the empty warehouse. He drew back the damp sheet.</p>
<p>Ammar covered his nose with his sleeve. “You found him in the water?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Bezio drank.” Ammar’s voice was muffled by the cloth. “He could have drowned. ”</p>
<p>Tazim shook his head, pointing at Bezio’s torn tunic. “That’s a knife wound.”</p>
<p>“So he was stabbed.” Ammar stepped back from the corpse, lowering his arm. “Then he drowned. That doesn’t make his death the work of an Assassin.”  </p>
<p>“True,” Tazim turned to Leo. The Venetian waited at the bottom of the stairs, his posture at ease, though it was clear from his face he was anything but. “But Leo’s a Venetian. He knows the tides. Leo, tell Ammar what you told me.”</p>
<p>Ammar seemed to notice Leo for the first time. He frowned at the mud-streaked Venetian. “Who’s this?”</p>
<p>“Leo Staganzo,” said Tazim.  “One of our newest recruits. He used to be a soldier. Go on, Leo.”</p>
<p>Ammar’s expression grew chill, but he nodded.  </p>
<p>Leo straightened and adopted a soldier’s stance. “<em>Signore</em>, I played dice with Bezio in a tavern in Santa Croce two nights ago. He must have gone into the water not long after. The lagoon’s warm and shallow. Corpses float. Birds do the rest.  But Bezio’s still intact. He wasn’t there for long.”</p>
<p>“He could have drowned,” repeated Ammar.</p>
<p>“He didn’t,” Leo said confidently, pointing to the dead man’s face. “Froth forms round a drowned man’s mouth. I’ve seen it many times. But not if he was dead before he entered the water.”</p>
<p>“Robbers?” suggested Ammar. “He’s not wearing his boots.”</p>
<p>“Boots are easy to remove. But he still has his tunic,” Tazim pointed to the wound in Bezio’s chest.  “Besides, I’ve heard rumours. The Assassin girl has returned to the city.”</p>
<p>Ammar’s mouth tightened. “This couldn’t be a worse time. Events are finally turning in our favour. The Crusaders have reneged on their debts.”</p>
<p>“What?” Leo exclaimed. “That’ll bankrupt the city.”  </p>
<p>“That’s no concern of yours,” Ammar said. He turned to Tazim. “Kill the Assassin. Preferably before she kills any more of us. Have you any questions?”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded. “What should we do with Bezio?”</p>
<p> Ammar’s gaze flicked back to the corpse. “Leave him there. I’ll send for his family.” He dug in his sleeve and tossed something small and shiny to Tazim, who snatched the object from the air. “You stink. Go and take a bath.” He nodded to Leo. “You’ll be working together from now on. If the Assassins really have returned you’ll need a partner.”</p>
<p>Tazim sighed. “I don’t need protection.”</p>
<p>Ammar paused with one foot upon the stairs. “No. You need a witness. You know you have my trust. But the others will always be suspicious no matter how you prove yourself. What’s the matter? Isn’t he useful?”</p>
<p>“He’s useful.” Tazim turned a speculative gaze upon Leo. “But you should tell him what he’s getting into.”</p>
<p>A faint smile touched Ammar’s mouth. “No, you should.”</p>
<p>Tazim was unsure if Ammar meant the responsibility as a reward or a punishment. “Why me?”</p>
<p>“Why not? I refuse to spend any longer than I must in a room with a corpse. It’s not healthy. Say what you must, then hunt that damned bitch down. My letter of credit should get you anything you need. Once you’re done, you know where to find me.”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded. “It’ll be done.”</p>
<p>“Soon, I hope. And you-whatever your name is-knowledge does not always bring peace. Are you sure?”</p>
<p>Leo nodded. “I am.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Ammar looked from Tazim to Leo with satisfaction. “Now go and bathe.”</p>
<p>Leo swept a bow in Ammar’s direction. “Thank you, <em>signore</em>.”</p>
<p>Tazim smiled. Ammar merely grunted. He climbed the stairs a shade too fast for dignity. Seconds later, Tazim heard a door slam upstairs.</p>
<p>“He’s right,” he said, letting his gaze fall deliberately down to Bezio’s body before he turned back to Leo. “Before you agree, you should understand what happened to your predecessors.”</p>
<p>“I’m not afraid to fight.”</p>
<p>Tazim drew the sheet over the corpse. “This is a different kind of war,”</p>
<p>“So it seems. Look, <em>signore</em>…I was a soldier. I learned not to ask too many questions. But I can be a better soldier if I know what cause I’m fighting for.”</p>
<p>Tazim grimaced. He’d used the same argument himself on many occasions. “This could take a while.” He gestured at the shallow steps. “Sit down.”</p>
<p>Leo settled beside him, picking at the dried mud on his leggings.</p>
<p>“You know the Templars support the Fourth Crusade?” Tazim began. “As Venice does?”</p>
<p>Leo nodded impatiently. “Everybody knows. The Pope sent us his envoys two years ago.”</p>
<p>“But the Templars are atheists. Have you ever wondered why we would want the Holy Land?”</p>
<p>“Because Jerusalem’s the centre of the world?”</p>
<p>“Mm. Whoever occupies Jerusalem possesses great power. But there are certain powerful relics in the Holy Land the Templars have long coveted. They’re called Eden fragments. Unfortunately, the Levantine Assassins stole the relics from our Brotherhood thirteen years ago.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you steal them back?”</p>
<p>“We tried. And failed. The Assassins slaughtered us and took the relics to their castle at Masyaf. They’ve spent the years since then collecting more. Masyaf is near impregnable. It took us six years to convince the Pope to call a new Crusade. It’s taken six more to raise an army.”</p>
<p> “Who are even now encamped upon the Lido,” Leo waved a hand at the closed door.</p>
<p>Tazim nodded. “Exactly. But the Assassins outmanoeuvred us. They brokered peace between the Muslims and the Christians in the Levant and conspired to send the Crusade to Alexandria.”</p>
<p>Leo looked confused. “Why Egypt?”</p>
<p>“Alexandria’s the seat of the Ayyubids. Saladin’s heirs are powerful enough to crush the Frankish armies. Luckily for us, the Crusade leaders chose Venice as a meeting point. Your Doge Dandolo sympathises with the Templars. That gave us the opportunity to divert the Crusade.”</p>
<p>“Back to Jerusalem?”</p>
<p>Tazim shook his head. “To Constantinople.”</p>
<p>Leo looked bewildered. “But Constantinople’s Christian!”</p>
<p>“Orthodox Christians,” corrected Tazim. “I don’t pretend to understand the difference, but the Byzantines don’t bow to the Pope. That should satisfy the Crusaders’ conscience. It’s not like they’re besieging another Latin Christian city.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Leo shook his head. “It seems to me we’d need more reason than just that.”</p>
<p>“There’s more,” Tazim waved his hand beneath his nose to dispel the corpse’s stench. The current emperor, Alexius, blinded and imprisoned his brother Isaac seven years ago. The prince fled into exile. Now he’s in Venice seeking revenge. He’s asked the Doge and the Crusaders for help to recapture his city. In return he’s promised to restore Constantinople’s Church to the Latin rite beneath the Pope.”</p>
<p>“The Doge lost his sight in Constantinople,” Leo said thoughtfully. “He hates the Byzantines.”</p>
<p>“And the city’s very rich. A great prize. Once we control Constantinople, we’ll have enough money to fund our own army and crush the Assassins for good.”</p>
<p>“So they’re fighting back,” Leo sighed. “But why did they kill Bezio? He wasn’t much of a threat.”</p>
<p>“Who knows?” Tazim shrugged. “Perhaps he discovered some secret. Perhaps his death’s a message. Or a warning.”</p>
<p>“Will they kill us if they catch us?”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded. “Yes.” He held the Templar cross Ammar had given him out to Leo. The necklace was a simple leather thong with a flared cross pendant inlaid with red enamel. “You can leave if you like. There’s no shame.”</p>
<p>Leo took the necklace from Tazim. “I’ll help.” His grin shone in the gloom. “It sounds to me like there’s money to be made. A man must pay his gambling debts somehow.”</p>
<p>“It’s risky,” Tazim warned.</p>
<p>“Life is risky.” Leo tucked the cross into his tunic. “Shall we go to the baths? I could do with a wash.”</p>
<p>“In a moment,” Tazim held out his left hand towards Leo to show his missing finger. “There’s something else you should know.”</p>
<p>Leo frowned. “Then it’s true what they say?”</p>
<p>Tazim knew what they said. He made a habit of listening to everything everyone said. “Yes,” he said. “I was an Assassin.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“You knew?” asked Tazim, “You don’t mind?”</p>
<p>Leo shook his head. “It could be worse.”</p>
<p>“How so?” </p>
<p>“You could be from Genoa.  I’d rather have my family dead than someone from Genoa at my door. They say Ammar’s held you in high regard for years. He wouldn’t do that if you weren’t loyal. Enough talk. Let’s go bathe.”</p>
<p>“In a while,” Tazim said. “There’s something else we should do first.”</p>
<p>He wondered if he would regret his decision as he led Leo from the Templar warehouse into Venice’s maze of narrow streets. As they walked he scanned the rooftops but saw no sign of movement, no matter how stealthy. The streets were unusually quiet.</p>
<p>He took the Venetian to a stall he’d visited many times before. The weapons merchant’s shop was packed high with gleaming steel. Nearby in a muddy field several would-be purchasers circled each other warily.</p>
<p>The merchant came towards them, nodding and bowing.  “Tazim! It’s been a while, my friend.”</p>
<p> “Too long. But the blades you sold me are still sharp.” Tazim nodded to Leo. “I need something for him.” </p>
<p>The merchant looked Leo up and down. “Something simple, then.” He gestured to a row of swords without grips or pommels.  “Have a look. Perhaps you’ll find something you like.”</p>
<p>Tazim lifted a sword by the tang and weighed the flat of the blade in his left hand, searching for the balance point. He held the blade out to Leo. He would have liked a sword himself, but Venice’s strict sumptuary laws forbade foreigners to bear swords in the streets when the city wasn’t actually at war. “This one’s well balanced. Try it out.”</p>
<p>Leo regarded the sword with alarm. “What would I do with that? I’m not a knight.”</p>
<p>“We’re hunting Assassins. You should be armed.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Leo agreed,” but if I wear a sword people will think I know what to do with it.”</p>
<p>Tazim put the sword down and moved on to another pile. “You said you were a soldier.”</p>
<p>“I was infantry! A spear-carrier.” Leo leant over the counter and hunted through the weapons stacked behind it. “Now this is more my style.”</p>
<p>He pulled out a spearhead, then a seven-foot pole. The leaf-shaped head was the length of Tazim’s forearm. Tazim blinked. “You’re going to fight with that in alleyways?”</p>
<p>Leo’s grin revealed a broken tooth. “I’ll get something for close work. But a spear keeps the Assassins where I want them.” He set the spearhead down. “Very far away.”</p>
<p>“You really think it’ll work?”</p>
<p>“I know it will. I’ve fought with spears before.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s try. Fight me.” </p>
<p>Leo  gestured to the spear-shaft. “What, with this?”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded. “Why not?”</p>
<p>“You’re unarmed.”</p>
<p>“It’s just a pole.” Tazim’s right hand dropped to the blade at his waist. “Don’t worry. I won’t draw my blades.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t worried about me!”</p>
<p>“You won’t get close. It’ll be a good test.”</p>
<p>Leo lifted the spear-shaft and held it loosely, one end pointed at the ground. “If you’re sure?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure.”</p>
<p>They went out onto the practice field. Leo held his spear horizontally, his right hand as close to the butt of the spear as he could get it. He jabbed a couple of times, then nodded.</p>
<p>Tazim settled into a knife-fighter’s stance, side-on, but bare-handed. He raised his elbow and brought his left hand around before his face, ready to duck.</p>
<p>Leo rushed him. His spear flickered like a serpent’s tongue as Leo jabbed forwards, shifting his grip from one-to two-handed and back again.  Tazim retreated, trusting his reflexes to keep him safe. The Venetian fought cautiously, and he knew just how to keep Tazim at a distance, where his fists or knives would be useless. Tazim doubted that the spear would be much use against fast-moving enemies in a confined space, but on the field he could see that the Venetian was a formidable opponent.   </p>
<p>Once Tazim had seen enough he looked for a way to end the fight quickly. Leo’s spearpoint wove a stabbing shield between them. When Tazim advanced Leo swung the spear in circles, trying to intimidate him. He jabbed for Tazim’s foot, and missed. The spearpoint swung wide.</p>
<p>That was all the opening Tazim needed. He rushed in, caught Leo’s spear beneath his left arm, and swung his hand down.</p>
<p>The Venetian pulled away and slapped Tazim’s back with a grin. “Looks like I need a knife.”</p>
<p>If he’d had a knife Tazim would have attacked him from the left to block his draw, but he saw no need to tell this to the Venetian.</p>
<p>Leo spun the spear and tried a few test moves. “Are all you-” He paused. “Are all Assassins so skilled?”</p>
<p>“Some are better. They could beat me with one hand. You might have more chance with a shield.”</p>
<p>Leo chose the spear, and a wide knife in the city’s favoured style, the sort they called a five-fingered blade or <em>cinquedea</em>, worn strapped horizontally to the small of the back. The tanner on the next stall took Leo’s measurements for a scabbard and a belt. They left the spear and dagger with the weapons-smith to be assembled and headed to the baths.</p>
<p>Tazim let Leo lead the way without paying much attention to their route. He saw no sign of the Assassins as he followed the Venetian through the caliph’s maze of alleys. It was only when he smelt the unmistakeable scent of sweat and human shit that he realized they were passing the slave markets. He usually avoided that area of the city. There was nothing he could do for the slaves, and that rankled. He raised his gaze back to the roof-tops, so he didn’t catch the slaves’ hopeless eyes. The Venetian eyed the slaves with the same interest he gave any trade goods, as if he was gauging how much they’d cost.</p>
<p>Tazim managed to avoid a conversation all the way into the bathhouse. It wasn’t until they were seated side by side in the steam room that Leo said “<em>Grasie.</em>”  </p>
<p>Tazim dropped his guard a little. “What for?”</p>
<p>“I saw your face when Ammar assigned me as your partner. You’d prefer to work alone. But you’ve been very helpful ever since I joined the Order. And I’m still not sure why.”</p>
<p>Tazim shrugged. “I have my reasons.”</p>
<p>“What reasons?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“What reasons do you have for helping me?”</p>
<p>Tazim looked at Leo suspiciously, but the Venetian seemed genuinely inquisitive. “We’re working together towards a new world. It’s foolish not to help each other.”</p>
<p>Leo grinned. “That makes a change. Plenty of Templars would stab another man themselves if it gave them the chance to rise to his place. I’d rather prove myself. From the sound of it, that means finding the Assassin girl. How do you think we’re going to do that?”</p>
<p>Tazim leaned back against the warm bricks. “The Assassins are killers. What do you think they’re doing in Venice?”</p>
<p>“They’re here to kill.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Who?”</p>
<p>“Us?”</p>
<p>“Maybe, but we’re not that important. Whose death would most benefit the Assassins?”</p>
<p>“Ammar?”</p>
<p>“Perhaps, but he’s well-guarded.”</p>
<p>“The Doge?”</p>
<p>“His guards are even better than the Master’s. But there are other high-ranking Templars here without so many guards.” Tazim ticked the nine names on his fingers. “Boniface of Montferrat. Baldwin of Flanders. Martin of Pairis. They lead the Crusaders. The Byzantine Prince, Alexius. Marco Candiano, Vitale Galbaio and Bartolomeo Ipato, members of the Council of Ten. Giovanni Monegario, Venice’s procurator. Domenico Zanetti, master of the shipyards.”</p>
<p>Leo curled his hands into fists. “How do we follow so many men? They’re all in different places. The Crusaders will be camped out on the Lido. The Prince is doubtless holed up in some palace with the Doge.  The councilmen likewise. The procurator never strays far from St Mark’s. The shipwright will be at the Arsenale-” He paused, gesturing with both hands at empty air. “The Arsenale!”</p>
<p>“What about it?” asked Tazim.</p>
<p>“I’ve been wondering about it all morning. We found Bezio’s body in Cannaregio, in the north.” There was a bucket of cool water in the corner of the room to throw on the stones when the hot bath cooled or sprinkle over your skin when the air grew too hot. Leo dipped his finger in  the water and sketched on the stones. “Yet I last saw him in Santa Croce. The only way he could have floated to Cannaregio from there is if the tides move west to east. But the fresh water coming in from the sea moves through the lagoon from east to west. If he went in the water at Santa Croce he’d have ended up in Mestre, on the mainland. If he’d gone in at San Marco we’d have found his body on the bank in Dorsoduro, or on the west side of Giudecca.”</p>
<p>Tazim frowned at the rapidly disappearing map. “So..?”</p>
<p>“So he must have  gone in somewhere to the north side of Castello. And the only point of interest on the north side of Castello…”</p>
<p>Tazim grinned. “The Arsenale.”</p>
<p>Leo nodded. “We should go and tell Zanetti. If this Assassin is in the Arsenale, she should be easy to find. We’re all Venetians there. No foreigners allowed.”</p>
<p>Tazim shook his head. “You don’t know Assassins.” He poked the Venetian’s shoulder. “They could be anywhere.”</p>
<p>“<em>Cazzo!</em>” Leo swatted him. “Don’t worry me. Now let’s go and get my spear.”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded. “Then we’ll go to warn Zanetti.”</p>
<p>They purchased Leo’s weapons with the Order’s money and crossed the canal towards the Arsenale. Tazim led the way this time. Mindful of Leo’s choice of weapon, he kept to the piazzas. The Piazza San Marco was a magnificent place for a fight, its herringbone paving still rough and unworn, with enough space to make the crowds seem small. The surrounding buildings, the Procuracies and the Palace, offered many interesting escape routes. He was almost disappointed when they crossed the square without a fight. </p>
<p>The two columns in the Piazzetta were said to be a gateway to the sea. If that was the case, the gate was firmly closed. Ropes strung between the columns held a dead man’s body, head down, stripped, and spread-eagled. Far too little flesh remained to make out the corpse’s features. Tazim didn’t know who he was, but only traitors ended up tied between the columns of St Mark. </p>
<p>The winged lion on the first column had turned its back on the grisly scene. The saint on the second column watched impassively from his perch atop a crocodile. Tazim, who had seen his fair share of crocodiles in Syria, decided that the sculptor had never seen a crocodile.</p>
<p>Leo jogged his elbow. “Fancy a go at the tables?”</p>
<p>Gambling tables stood between the columns and the wharves, some right beneath the dead man’s tangled hair.  The tables were crowded despite their grisly location. Tazim shuddered. “Not there.”</p>
<p>“They have the best odds in Venice!”</p>
<p>“I can see why,” Tazim muttered.</p>
<p>They passed the crowds of callous gamblers and headed down along the quay. To Tazim’s right the water shone like silver, and to the left the sprawling brickwork of the Doge’s Palace draped the quay.  Leo’s spearpoint stabbed the sky as they climbed the rickety wooden bridge at the Ponte della Paglia and went on down towards Castello. Across the lagoon San Giorgio Maggiore gleamed over the water. Tazim was wondering why the Venetians hadn’t built their city somewhere more sensible, preferably with higher buildings, when he looked up at the quay and saw the Assassin. </p>
<p>The men of Venice were busy building ships, and there were more women in the street than usual. The Assassin wasn’t dressed in Order robes. She wore the severe habit of a nun, and she didn’t stand out in the crowds, but Tazim would have known her anywhere.</p>
<p>She saw Tazim just as he saw her. Her eyes widened. A lock of dark hair fell across her face as she  opened her mouth, one hand darting towards the small of her back for the knife that was no doubt hidden there.  </p>
<p>Tazim drew his own blade. In the same moment, he lunged.</p>
<p>He knew she was much quicker than he’d ever been. Though Tazim had pushed himself mercilessly since he had left the Order, no practice field could ever mimic Assassin training.  If she’d drawn first, he’d never have caught her.</p>
<p>She danced away, a silver blade flickering in her right hand. Her eyes were focused on him, her expression was a blank mask. Tazim had seen that look on his own face many times. He watched her, and she watched him.</p>
<p>Everything happened so quickly that it took a moment for the people around them to even realize they were fighting. A woman with a heavy basket jumped away from Tazim’s swing.  Somebody screamed.  A few sailors waiting by the quay turned towards them. </p>
<p>Tazim took up the same stance he’d used against Leo. The Assassin stood poised on her toes like a sleek hound ready for the hunt.  Tazim tensed.</p>
<p>Then a spear darted between them and pinned the Assassin’s skirt to the ground. She whirled away, quicker than thought, and darted up one of the canals beside the ducal palace. A moment later, she was gone.</p>
<p>Tazim hesitated for a second. It was a novice’s mistake and he knew it. By the time he reached the canal’s mouth there was no trace of the Assassin. He still held his bared blade in his hand. Leo clapped him on the shoulder, and Tazim nearly cut his throat. He’d completely forgotten about the Venetian.</p>
<p>Leo jumped back, smiling rather too readily for someone who had come so close to death.  “<em>Ahi</em>,” he said, still smiling. “I wasn’t expecting that. From the look on your face, neither were you.”</p>
<p>Tazim stared at him. Then he turned back to the canal. There was no sign of the Assassin on the rooftops, or in the reflections along the canal.</p>
<p>Leo frowned. “Are you all right?” He gestured at Tazim’s tunic. “She got you.”</p>
<p>Tazim tore his gaze from the canal and looked down. A thin scarlet line soaked the left side of his tunic. Once he saw the blood he felt the sting across his ribs. She’d come so close she could have skewered him if she’d tried. “It’s not bad.”</p>
<p>Leo whistled. “Could have been worse.” He turned to the gathered crowds. “It’s all right. Private business.” When that failed to dispel the crowd he added “They used to be married.”</p>
<p>That got a laugh. The crowd dispersed in small clumps, like seaweed. The matron with the basket spat at them before she bustled away.</p>
<p>Leo misinterpreted Tazim’s silence. “Don’t look so dismayed,” he said. “We’ll catch her. What was she doing here?”</p>
<p>“She was after us.”</p>
<p>“You, perhaps,” said Leo. “That was an Assassin? I think I joined the wrong Order.”</p>
<p>“Don’t joke.”</p>
<p>“Why not?” Leo asked. The skirmish seemed to have put the Venetian in a jovial mood. “I saw the look on your face when you saw her. Like a hare in lamplight. You weren’t really married, were you?”</p>
<p> “I knew her once. A long time ago. But that was back at Masyaf. We’ve both changed.”</p>
<p>“I can see that.” Leo lowered his voice. “Are you really going to kill her?”</p>
<p>Tazim didn’t wait for him to finish. “Yes,” he said in a voice so quiet Leo had to lean even closer to hear it. “That’s what I do. I’ve killed all kinds of people, and most of them deserved it. Some probably didn’t. But I killed them anyway, because the Templars asked me to. I have to believe I’m fighting for a new world.” </p>
<p>The Venetian threw up his hands. “<em>El me scuxa. </em>I don’t mean to offend. My mother says I would talk underwater if I could.”</p>
<p>An awkward silence followed. Tazim listened to the conversations around them as they walked, sifting useful information more from habit than any real desire to know what the Venetians were thinking. </p>
<p>“What does your mother think of you?” asked Leo. “You never speak about your family.”</p>
<p>If his comment was meant to lift Tazim’s mood, it had the opposite effect. “There’s a reason for that. I’m an orphan.”</p>
<p>“Even orphans have someone.”</p>
<p>“The man who raised me disagrees with my decisions,” said Tazim. “We don’t talk any more. I still write. Occasionally.”</p>
<p>Leo laughed. “My father didn’t approve of me fighting in the wars. I will most likely disapprove of my sons’ decisions. That’s what fathers do.”</p>
<p>“He’s not my father.”</p>
<p>“If you say so. Don’t look so serious.”</p>
<p>“I’m just thinking.” Tazim drew Leo aside before they reached the next bridge. “You have a mother. A wife? Children?”</p>
<p>Leo nodded. “A wife. Two boys.”</p>
<p>“Then you should leave the Templars while you can. I’m serious.”</p>
<p>“I can’t afford to,” Leo’s face was grave. “I’m no shipwright. I’m a soldier. There’s no war until the  Crusade finally sets sail. It’s hard to be a soldier in peacetime. War’s dangerous and the rewards are much less than what the Templars offer. I want my sons to be more than I am.” </p>
<p>“At least they’d have a father,” Tazim muttered.</p>
<p> “You’re gloomy today.”</p>
<p>“I’m gloomy every day.” Tazim glanced down at his torn tunic. The cut beneath was shallow, but it still stung. “But I don’t think you should come after the Assassin.”</p>
<p>“I can handle myself against a girl.”</p>
<p>Tazim shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”</p>
<p>“Really? She ran off pretty quickly when she saw us. Look, if you’re worried I could round up a few men.”</p>
<p> “I’m not worried about that.”</p>
<p>Leo gave him a sceptical glance. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>They went down through Castello and crossed the wooden bridge over the canal before the gate. Four bridges later they saw the first sign of the Arsenale itself, a featureless wall over twenty feet high built from narrow Roman bricks. The curving wall led them straight to the Arsenale, with one last bridge to cross before they reached the main gates.</p>
<p>The bridge was built from cantilevered wooden struts like a ship itself, high-arched so smaller craft could pass beneath it. The canal beneath the bridge abruptly widened as it passed through the walls, the water inside deceptively still for such a hive of industry.</p>
<p>Leo squinted against the dazzle of sunlight on water. “Looks quiet enough.”  </p>
<p>The front gate was a riot of stolen statues, prizes from Venice’s many foreign campaigns. There Roman columns supported Muslim carvings, and above the door a winged Persian lion held a closed book that meant war.  The iron gates were Venetian, and firmly locked.</p>
<p>Tazim rapped on the bars. A guard sidled out and glared at them.  “What do you two want? If you’re looking for work, the late shift started three hours ago. You’re far too slow.” He pointed to Tazim. “And you’re too foreign. Go away.”</p>
<p>Tazim shook his head. “We’re looking for Zanetti.”</p>
<p>“What do you want with Zanetti?”</p>
<p>“I need to talk to him.”</p>
<p>The guard looked unimpressed. “So does half of Venice.” </p>
<p>“It’s urgent.”</p>
<p>“I told you he’s busy. Besides, no foreigners in the Arsenale. Doge’s order.”</p>
<p>Tazim sighed and reached into his tunic. He pulled out his Templar cross and looped the thong over his head. “Show him this,” he said, holding out the cross through the bars. “Tell him we’re waiting.”</p>
<p>The guard peered at the dangling cross. “Looks cheap.”</p>
<p>Tazim rolled his eyes. “Just show it to him.”</p>
<p>“And don’t steal it, ” muttered Leo. “<em>Cazzo</em>! When did we become so petty?”</p>
<p>The guard shot Leo a nasty look, snatched the cross from Tazim’s fist and stalked off. Tazim thought he’d make them wait a while at best. At worst he’d pocket the necklace for its value.  It didn’t matter. There were other ways to catch Zanetti’s attention. The front gate happened to be the easiest of them.</p>
<p>“What will you do if he doesn’t give it back?” Leo leaned against a lion’s rune-carved rump.</p>
<p>“I suppose we’ll find another way in,” Tazim said, smiling at the look at Leo’s face. “What did you expect?”</p>
<p>“Something more dramatic, I suppose,” Leo sighed.</p>
<p>“There are other ways in. Most of them involve swimming. The rest involve sewers. You wouldn’t like either.” Tazim straightened. “Here they come now. Looks like that guard was honest after all.”</p>
<p>Zanetti was Venetian to the bone. His name linked him to one of Venice’s founding families, and he had the thin, pale face and prominent nose the Venetians found aristocratic, like a very well-bred horse. His shirt was of the finest fabric, and his tunic was covered in gilt embroidery, but the frayed brocade was streaked with tar. Either Zanetti had fallen on hard times, which was unlikely given his prestigious position, or he was wealthy enough that he could afford to ruin his tunics. From Zanetti’s appearance, Tazim guessed the latter.</p>
<p>The shipyard master was tall and lean as his ships’ masts, with big broad hands like oars, and heavy  black eyebrows which folded together like sails as he approached. “What do you want?” he snapped, waving Tazim’s cross.  “Hurry, now. Speak plainly. I’ve work to do.”</p>
<p>“You’re in danger,” Tazim said, thinking it best to get straight to the point. “The Assassins are after you. We’ve come from Ammar to protect you.”</p>
<p>Zanetti paled. “Let them in,” he said, waving to the guard.</p>
<p>The guard hurried to unlock the gate. Well-maintained hinges swung open smoothly as Zanetti hurried them inside the Arsenale, glancing warily at the rooftops. The door clanged shut behind them. Tazim heard the key turn in the great iron lock.</p>
<p>Inside, the city’s perpetual smell of lagoon water was masked by the pitch the dockyard boiled to caulk the vessels.  Towers of steam rose into the air from pitch cauldrons on the opposite side of the yard. Tazim could only guess how bad the smell would be there.  </p>
<p>“I need to return to my ships,” Zanetti set off across the docks at a smart clip. “You can explain while we walk.”</p>
<p>“Your life’s in danger,” Tazim said, stepping over a rope. Leo stumbled. “Does your work come before that?”</p>
<p>Zanetti gave him a scornful glare. “Before anything.”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded with respect. “There’s an Assassin in Venice. We think you’re the next target. One of our brothers is already dead.”</p>
<p>Zanetti paused for a moment. “Who?”</p>
<p>“Bezio.”</p>
<p>“Huh.” The shipwright grunted. “I knew him. But we weren’t friends. I’m not some tavern lout. And the Arsenale is well guarded. What makes you think you will succeed if my guards fail?</p>
<p>“With respect-your guards don’t know how the Assassins hunt their prey.”</p>
<p>“And you do?”</p>
<p>“I used to be one. Leo here is a good fighter, and I know their ways.”</p>
<p>“Who did you say sent you?”</p>
<p>“Ammar.”</p>
<p>“Mm.” Zanetti handed Tazim back his cross. “He’s a hard-working man. Some of those councillors wouldn’t know a proper day’s work if it bit them. What do you need?”</p>
<p>Tazim looped the cross back round his neck. “Let us follow you around.  We can’t protect you if we don’t learn your ways.”</p>
<p>Zanetti snorted. “You’ll use me as bait for your trap.”</p>
<p>“The trap’s already set,” said Tazim. “But we can be there when it springs. Or not. Your choice.”</p>
<p>Zanetti looked unimpressed. “Can’t I pay them off?”</p>
<p>It was a very Venetian solution. “Assassins don’t take bribes. If they do they’re no longer Assassins.”</p>
<p>“What are they, then?”</p>
<p>“Dead,” said Tazim.</p>
<p>Zanetti hesitated. Tazim used the time to assess potential assassination opportunities. The high walls and water-gates that would deter most reasonable enemies were child’s play for an Assassin. The crowds of workers would mask intruders but hamper any attempt at escape. The lagoon would be more of a barrier. The Assassins were not sailors.</p>
<p>“Very well,” Zanetti said at last. “Follow me. I’ll show you round myself.” He gestured to an open door. Men ran up and down inside to the sound of creaking ropes. “Look here. That’s the rope walk.” He pointed behind them to a row of workers sitting outside with sails spread over their laps to take advantage of the outdoor light as they threaded heavy needles that gleamed like stilettos in the sun. “Sailmakers.”</p>
<p>They passed another building full of benches strewn with scraps of hide. Lengths of wood rested against the wall. Zanetti grunted, “Oar makers. ” He led them across a bridge to a row of long sheds that opened directly onto the water, then flung out an arm with a distinctly paternal expression. “I spend most of my time in here.”</p>
<p>It took Tazim’s eyes a second to adjust to the light. A huge dark shape materialised slowly out of the gloom in front of him, looped with ropes and covered with precarious scaffolding. Behind the half-built galleon Tazim saw more shapes ranked one after another, five or six ships in one building alone, all in different stages of completion like the ages of man. The first ship was a skeleton of bare timbers. The last vessel hoisted its canvas as if it would at any moment sail out into the lagoon. Workers swarmed like ants across the decks. </p>
<p>Zanetti gestured to the ship, shouting to be heard over the sound of hammering. “These are the shipwrights.”</p>
<p>The workshop seemed a more promising venue for a murder. Cranes swung heavy timbers into place above their heads and long ropes hung everywhere. The whole situation was perfect for a contrived accident. But Zanetti was constantly attended. He oversaw the workers, received messengers from the Doge and the Crusaders, and negotiated adroitly with merchants. He seemed fearsomely organized, rattling off directions to the foremen as calmly and methodically as the nails hammered into the planks. Even when he went to watch a ship being launched upon the water-an impressive sight, but one the workers treated with the same calm efficiency as they did everything else-he was never left alone.</p>
<p>“I can see why the Assassins want him dead,” muttered Leo, as Tazim honed a blade already razor-sharp.  </p>
<p>“Why?” Tazim had watched over much worse charges than Zanetti. “He’s not that bad.”</p>
<p>“Not that,” Leo said. “Look at him work! This place runs like a machine. If anyone can deliver the Crusader ships on time, it’s him.” He drew out a greasy deck. “Game of cards?”</p>
<p>“No!”</p>
<p>When the sun lanced golden light across the water with a mosaic glitter and Zanetti showed no sign of stopping Tazim tapped the shipwright on the shoulder. “Sir, I’ve seen enough. We should discuss our plan of action.”</p>
<p>Zanetti grunted. “I’m busy.”</p>
<p>“It won’t take long.”</p>
<p>“All right,” Zanetti exhaled with a sigh that stirred a puff of sawdust. He set down his plans, put his hands on his hips, turned, and paused.</p>
<p>“Privately,” Tazim said.</p>
<p>Zanetti cast his eyes towards the ceiling. “Is this important?”</p>
<p>“Very.”</p>
<p>“Fine.” Zanetti snapped. “You can have five minutes, but no more. Follow me.”</p>
<p> Tazim nodded. He had the feeling that the shipwright would have refused them if anything less than his life was at stake. He turned to Leo. “It’s getting late. Go see Ammar. Tell him of our progress.”</p>
<p>“What progress?” Leo leaned on his spear. “We’ve done nothing to report. You go. I’ll stay and guard Zanetti.”</p>
<p>“I can’t let you do that.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded towards the shipmaster’s rapidly disappearing back. “I have to speak to him myself. But you don’t have to come.”</p>
<p>Leo grunted. “I’ll find Ammar later. Look, we’re losing him.”</p>
<p>They chased  Zanetti through the warehouse and up two narrow flights of steps to a wide room above the sail lofts. Judging by Zanetti’s name and face, he probably had a palace somewhere on the Grand Canal. If he did, he didn’t spend much time there. The space was bare as any Assassin’s cell, with a rumpled pallet pushed into the corner between the floor and sloping roof, a chest for clothes, a lap desk, and a stack of paper. Unusually in the gloomy Arsenale, there was a window,  fashioned from a cargo door. Wide wooden shutters hung open on each side.  The hatch provided a good view of the city.</p>
<p>Zanetti  sat down on the chest. “What have you got to tell me?”</p>
<p>“It’s more of a demonstration,” said Tazim.</p>
<p>He reached across his body, drew his left-hand blade, and struck. The thin knife, narrow as an Assassin’s blade, rolled over the man’s left collar bone, and sank in deeply.  Zanetti gurgled. He would have fallen backwards but for Tazim’s grip on his shoulders. He caught the shipwright’s body and eased him to the floor, pressing the man’s eyelids closed. “Be at peace,” he said.</p>
<p>The murder took less than five seconds. Half of that was eulogy.</p>
<p>Leo blinked. Tazim’s body blocked his view of Zanetti, but the knife-hilt jutting from his chest was hard to hide. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p>Tazim sighed. “Building a better future.”</p>
<p>“But he’s a Templar!”</p>
<p>“I know that,” Tazim said patiently.</p>
<p>Understanding dawned in the Venetian’s eyes. “You’re still an Assassin.”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“Are you going to kill me too?”</p>
<p>“Not if you join us,” Tazim said. He’d accepted that offer once himself, many years ago.</p>
<p>Leo raised his spear. “Why would I?”</p>
<p>“The Templars want to tell people how to live their lives,” Tazim slid his right hand behind his back without taking his eyes from Leo. His fingers touched the hilt and he yanked the narrow blade from Zanetti’s lifeless chest. “The Assassin’s Creed is better.”</p>
<p>“Men need guidance,” Leo said. He sounded disbelieving. At least he wasn’t shouting. There were enough workers in the yard to swarm them in moments if Leo called for help. He hoped the Venetian didn’t think of that.  </p>
<p>“People deserve freedom,” Tazim said. “Freedom to choose for themselves.”</p>
<p>Leo swallowed. Tazim guessed he was weighing the reward he’d get for Tazim’s death against the risk of fighting him. The Venetian’s hands tightened on his spear. Then he lunged.</p>
<p>Tazim stepped back. His foot slipped on Zanetti’s lifeless arm, and he nearly brained himself on the beams. Leo’s spear-point flashed towards him, and Tazim jerked away.</p>
<p>“You’re making a mistake,” he told Leo as he darted in beneath the Venetian’s guard. Leo was quick, and he wasn’t stupid. He dropped the spear and went for his dagger, but Tazim reached him before the spear had fallen and grabbed Leo’s right forearm with his left hand. It was an awkward angle, and the Venetian was in a far stronger position. Tazim could only hold him for a second. It was enough. He punched forward with his blade, slick with Zanetti’s blood, and Leo died with surprise stamped on his face.</p>
<p>Tazim knelt down and closed Leo’s eyes. “Be at peace.”</p>
<p>He said nothing else. Both men were dead, there was no point in speeches. He left the bodies where they were and slipped through the window without looking back. Moving incredibly slowly despite his instincts telling him to run, he crept on fingers and toes down the wall and waited for a guard to turn his head before he leapt onto the perimeter wall and climbed very carefully upwards. The muscles in his arms burned by the time he reached the parapet. There were guards on the wall, but he kept low as he crossed, and dived into the water without even a splash.</p>
<p>By the time the bodies were discovered his clothes were mostly dry, and he was waiting on a pier on the far side of Castello. A woman gutted fish beside him on the wharf. Her blade flashed in the sun and fish guts tumbled into the water.</p>
<p>There was a barrel on the pier. Tazim leaned on the warm wood. “Hello, Asma.”</p>
<p>The woman’s hands stilled. “Hello, Marîd.” </p>
<p>“Don’t call me that here,” he said. It felt good to shed his Templar persona, like taking off a too-tight pair of shoes.  </p>
<p>“You’re late,” she said. “Zanetti’s dead?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “There were delays. But yes.”</p>
<p>Asma raised her head. Her shawl slipped backwards, revealing crow-black hair. “Did they see you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think so.”</p>
<p>“Then what’s the matter?”</p>
<p>Marîd’s eyes stung. He turned away from the glittering lagoon. “Zanetti wasn’t the only one to die today.”</p>
<p>“You killed an innocent?”</p>
<p>“He wasn’t innocent.”</p>
<p>Asma’s sigh could have been the breeze over the water. “A friend?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know him well enough to call him that. I know he had a family. I’ll-” He paused as he realized that, if he got away with this, Ammar would probably have him break the news to Leo’s family. His stomach twisted, and he swallowed.</p>
<p>“You could have waited,” she said.</p>
<p>He shrugged.” I had an opportunity. I took it.” As the words left his mouth it dawned on him that once he’d seen an opening he’d never considered postponing Zanetti’s assassination for Leo’s sake. Bile rose in his throat, and he leaned over the quay to retch into the water.</p>
<p>“Are you all right?”</p>
<p>Marîd couldn’t speak. He nodded as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Sweat prickled between his shoulder-blades as the nausea subsided like a wave. “It’s the smell,” he said after a while, though they both knew it wasn’t. “I’m fine.”</p>
<p>Asma let her fish fall into the water. She plunged her hands into the lagoon and rinsed them clean. “Come with me,” she said, rising. She smelled of sweat and sandalwood and, more faintly, of fish. “Come back home. To Jerusalem. To Masyaf.”</p>
<p>Marîd shook his head. “I can’t.”</p>
<p>She frowned. Thick eyebrows met upon her forehead. “Why not?”</p>
<p>“However we delay, the Crusade ships will sail this summer. I need to go to Constantinople. I have to finish this.” </p>
<p>Asma’s frown deepened. “Do you think you can keep up your act that long? This life isn’t doing you any favours.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not,” Marîd said. “But it’s my decision. The Templars will believe me as long as I present them with a plausible excuse. I’ll say you murdered Leo and Zanetti. I chased you through the city and killed you, but lost your body in the lagoon.”</p>
<p>“So it’ll be a chase?” Asma’s hands went to her throat. She began to unlace the high collar of her shapeless dress. “That’ll be a stretch. You know I’ll have to wound you to make it look convincing?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “You know I’ll have to take something of yours to make it seem you’re dead?”</p>
<p>Asma rolled up her left sleeve to reveal a leather and steel gauntlet. She jerked at the straps. “You can have my hidden blade.”</p>
<p>“Can you spare it?”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. “The armourers will complain. But you of all people should know we can fight with anything that comes to hand. Losing a weapon is better than losing a finger. Make my death look good. I promise I won’t hurt you too badly.”</p>
<p>Marîd shrugged. “Just make it seem convincing.” A thought occurred to him. “Have you heard from Malik? Or Altaïr?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “Not since they left Masyaf. Abbas has sent messengers to Constantinople to warn them of the Templar’s plans. We’ll have to see how that turns out. Don’t let Malik’s absence stop you returning with me. You know he thinks you should have left by now.”</p>
<p>“I’m not leaving yet.”</p>
<p>Asma glared at him and began to shrug off her disguise. “You’re just like him.”</p>
<p>“I’m not.”</p>
<p>“You are.” Asma shed her shawl and dress. “Once you decide you’re doing the right thing, there’s nothing on this earth that could stop you.” She handed her hidden blade to Marîd, who tucked it in his shirt, and stood on the quay in the full costume of an Assassin; white robe and leggings, and a scarlet sash blowing in the breeze. The effect was only slightly spoiled by her mud-smeared bare feet. She pointed at the barrel by Marîd’s side. “Pass me my boots.”</p>
<p>He flipped up the lid and handed her the footwear. “Make it short. ”</p>
<p>She nodded as she buckled her boots. “I’ll head west. We can finish the fight in the Piazza San Marco.”</p>
<p>“That’s far too public.”</p>
<p>“You told me to make it convincing.” She grinned, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. “Just like the old days. I promise you nobody will doubt that I’m dead once we’re done.”</p>
<p>Marîd stretched, rolling his shoulders in preparation for the chase. Asma tilted her head and stared at him with bird-bright eyes. “Promise me you’ll come back to us.”</p>
<p>Marîd nodded, “I promise.”</p>
<p>“You better,” said Asma. She launched herself from the quay like a falcon, white robes flying behind her like wings.</p>
<p>Marîd gave her a ten-second head start before he followed.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>He woke, head throbbing, wrapped in a cocoon of scratchy woollen blankets. When he opened his eyes he was lying on a pallet on the floor.  The ceiling was very high above him, and a constellation of lamps flickered in stone niches beneath the shadowed beams. Rows of beds, each one occupied, stretched out on either side. Over to his right, someone coughed. To his left, somebody screamed.</p>
<p>When Marîd shifted his weight, cold fire burned down his right side. The pain stole his breath and  cramped his muscles. Blankets twisted round his legs.  His curly hair was damp with sweat.</p>
<p>Asma had promised not to hurt him too badly, but it seemed she’d struck hard enough to land him in a public hospital. He hated to think what would have happened if she’d really tried to harm him.</p>
<p>A shadow moved beside him that wasn’t his own. Marîd rolled over. He’d slipped into his Templar persona by the time his other shoulder hit the pallet.</p>
<p>“You’re awake,” said Ammar. He crouched down on the boards with an expression of distaste and picked up something from the floor. “What happened?”</p>
<p>Tazim’s mouth was dry. He swallowed. “Zanetti’s dead,” he croaked.</p>
<p>“I know that,” Ammar said impatiently. “At least you killed the Assassin girl as well. The whole city saw you two fighting. I thought Assassins were meant to be stealthy.” He laid down the hidden blade Tazim had taken from Asma. “What happened to Leo?”</p>
<p>“He died fighting the Assassin,” Tazim said. If they knew Zanetti was dead they’d have found Leo’s body as well.”</p>
<p>Ammar nodded. Shadows played across his face. “I thought as much. I’ll send somebody to tell his family.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do it,” Tazim said.</p>
<p>“If you’re sure?”</p>
<p>Tazim nodded.</p>
<p>“I thought having a companion would make your job easier,” Ammar said. “Still, there are plenty more men out there. Stay here until you’re better. But try not to rest for too long. We have work to do.”</p>
<p>“Won’t Zanetti’s death delay things?”  Tazim asked, though he knew the answer. Zanetti’s death would halt production for a while, nothing more. It would buy the Assassins more time to send their envoys and warn Constantinople of the Templars’ plans. Perhaps it would change nothing. Like most of the Order’s plans, it was a stab in the dark.</p>
<p> Ammar shook his head. “The Assassins could kill half the men in Venice without halting this Crusade. We’ve lost a month or two. No more. Heal soon. I need you.”</p>
<p>“’ll try my best.”</p>
<p>Ammar nodded. He left Tazim without a second glance. The lamps flickered, stretching the Templar’s departing shade along the rough brick wall. For a fleeting moment the shadows of the beds resembled mountain peaks, reminding Marîd of Masyaf.</p>
<p>Although he wished he had accepted Asma’s offer, he knew he had to stay. If he left now, what would he have achieved? A few small pieces of information, a paltry delay, and three murders. No more. The price he’d paid was far too high for such meagre reward. If he went to Constantinople, he might still have the chance to thwart the Templars in some more important way.</p>
<p>Marîd lay back in the dim light and thought of Leo’s sightless eyes staring at the loft ceiling. Though he knew from experience that the memory would fade, he didn’t think he deserved to forget.  </p>
<p>He crossed his arms behind his head and wondered who else he’d have to kill.</p>
<p>  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>As in the Arsenal of the Venetians</em><em><br/>
Boils in winter the tenacious pitch<br/>
To smear their unsound vessels over again<br/>
For sail they cannot; and instead thereof<br/>
One makes his vessel new…”</em></p>
<p>Dante, <em>Inferno</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story's basically one giant set-up for my other work-in-progress, but I always love exploring Venice. I've taken some liberties with the history and the appearance of the city (for example, the pillars in the Piazzetta probably weren't in that location during that period, and the cinquedea Leo carries was popular during the Renaissance) but I tried to keep the details as historically accurate as possible. Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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